Sabrienna: The Beauty who slept
by Orchid87
Summary: Sleeping Beauty in a whole new light. She actually has some character and she's not just some horny blonde who sings in the forest for a man! Suspensful, witty, very original and very creative, you won't even recognize it 'cause it's so different from the
1. The Battle

A mist of cold rain blanketed her shoulders as she regained consciousness.

From dusk, it was now in the late stages of night and her temples throbbed with each pulse.

A blast of thunder quickened her heartbeat and out of her exhaustion she jolted to her knees. The realization came quickly to her, and recognizing her present danger, she began to search frantically for him.

The dullness of night clouded her view and sounds of the damp air being choked down her throat were equivalent to the torrent thunder rumbling overhead. The chill of the wind froze her lungs as she flung her head from side to side searching for her attacker. The blackness of the forest was too much for one to see the shadows that crept along in the wretchedness of that night and her pupils were dilated to their fullest with sweeping fear. The leaves began to crunch and crack ever louder with his eerie footsteps approaching--the weight of her assaulter behind its frightening noise. Overhead, the sky emitted a flash of lightning and his silhouetted outline became her most heightened fear. Molevere had returned.

Molevere's rigid, solid frame hung over her battered body, and a sinister voice escaped from his crooked smile.

"I see you are well…and alive, Princess Sabreinna. I thought for sure the poison I slipped in your glass would have ravaged your body broken. A pity too, for now a heavier dose is needed to finish this job. Only then shall I gain my power."

The causality of his voice only reinforced the sickness Sabreinna felt deep inside. With no soul for miles to hear her cries for help, the time for him to kill her had come. She realized that he had poisoned her and had dragged her out here to die. With her gone, he would have ultimate power. The fear for her people being ruled by a Dark Lord such as Molevere caused such heartache, this time she would be prepared to defend herself. She had been unprotected once, but this time she knew better. Her race of people, the wealthy higher ends of her people, dwelled in ancient magic. She being royalty, Sabreinna was no different. Sabreinna was taught by the best, which meant she knew the best ancient craft of magic. As she stared up at her counterpart, her head raced with numerous incantations which she would use against Molevere. This time, _she_ would win.

As Molevere stood over her, Sabreinna found her courageous voice embedded within her. She quickly rose to meet his wry features, squaring and equaling his hardened look The strength to stand proved difficult in her condition-- non-the-less she did not back down.

"Tell me Molevere," she steadied her aching body, "how is it that you plan on ruling such an obsession you cannot possibly understand? You have no knowledge of politics and sovereignty, yet still you approach it thinking people will be wielded and twisted to your ways. You live in nothing more than a fantasy, soon others, like myself, will know what your greedy heart covets; lust and power!"

If there was ever any anger, Molevere did not show it, and with her last shouts Sabreinna gathered her very last bit of strength firing out a brilliant light hex.

"Holeereorg!"

The dazzling light was deflected as quickly as it came rolling off her tongue and was met with its match.

"Ooperehn!"

Molevere countered it quite simply.

As Sabreinna realized her efforts failed, a seething chuckle emitted from Molevere. He had stopped her hex with alarming ease, and her strength was now next to nothing.

Sabreinna's hands dropped to her knees which helped support her frame. She had been unsuccessful at destroying Molevere-- they both knew it.

"You, my dear Sabreinna, were nothing more than a novice-- a pathetic waste of time and effort."

Effortlessly, he seized her around the waist and put his dagger to her throat. She, being as limp as a rag-doll, was helpless against his strength.

"I have the rest of the dose here in my pocket…try not resist."

Fatigue led to panic as Sabreinna felt Molevere grope into his pocket for the vile he had used only hours earlier. As she began to struggle, the knife dug deeper into the tender flesh of her neck, drawing blood. With one last effort, Sabreinna began uttering another hex, but the deepening pressure of his blade cut her words short.

"Wench! Stay still! I won't say it again…"

His long, boney fingers began forcing her mouth wider as he uncorked the deadly bottle.

With that, he pressed the vile to Sabreinna's lips and tipped its contents inside her mouth. Frantic not to swallow, she writhed and squirmed, anything, if only to stay alive!

At her direct defiance, Molevere lost his patience and seized her by her left forearm. As his fingers curled around her skin, a burning hot pain seared through her body. If he was muttering a spell, it was being drowned out by Sabreinna's thick, full shrieks of utter torture. Her screams were heard by none but the wind and rain; she was powerless against Molevere now, the pain consuming her every sense. The pain left Sabreinna entirely tranquil and he emptied the remainder of the liquid into her mouth. She could feel the slow, numbing effects of the poison flowing in her veins which consumed her and gradually began to waste her away. As everything began to fade, she felt herself being released from Molevere's iron grip and helplessly she staggered away, rapidly losing all feeling. Her hands fumbled for anything to support her limp frame and she began muttering in a strange gibberish. Molevere's fading laughter were the only things Sabreinna could make out, and the sound comforted her in the least.

Then, it happened.

In attempts to grab a hold of something, she fingered her locket hanging on her neck and subconsciously, she opened it. As her nails parted the bright ornate silver pendant, a wave of bright orange illuminated the black forest and swallowed the rain from out of the sky. The sound, a low deep rumble, destroyed thunder and an earthquake shook both the Heavens and the Earth. A shriek of terror could scarcely be heard over the spectacle, though it was not her own.

When the locket consumed all it had engulfed, it sealed itself shut around Sabreinna's neck.

The forest was as quiet as before.

Sabreinna, unaware of her surroundings and the mysterious event, stumbled to the earth as the poison completed its ravenous course. Her limp, lifeless body tumbled down a gorge and landed into the passing stream—her locket glowing like a dying ember.

_A.P. and yes, there is a plot. A good plot too._


	2. The River's Edge

"Wow, I can't help but stare …"

"Well, you can stop poking her with that stick."

"You're not helping, Kaelin!"

"Can't help it, besides, it's not everyday you see a wild-looking scrawny woman on the shore in this boring place."

"Shhh! Be quiet!--someone's coming…"

An older looking farmer heard their noise over his plow and broke through the forest to see the subject of the matter.

"Girls! Stop bickering! Now, what seems to be the problem."

The elderly man stooped over the young girls' shoulder and down at the bank of the river. What he saw truly astounded him and he fell back a step. A skinny sick-looking woman, seemingly dead, laid hunched over soaking wetwith anashen appearance.

Studying the matter, the farmer decided on a course of action.

"Kaelin, go fetch me a large cloth."

"Oh, okay" a disappointed tone was obvious. She had wanted to stay and see the action.

"But, what about me…?" Piped the other girl, wanting to feel just as important.

"Yes, go with her. Tell my wife that I'll be going into town first thing and therefore won't be needing lunch."

"Right." They spoke in unison.

The girls rushed off towards the farmer's cottage to gather his supplies and to deliver the news. As they left, the farmer noticed something silver around the girl's neck. The way it caught the ray of the morning sun sent greedy shivers down the old man's body. He bent over and unfastened the chain from her neck. Evaluating the trinket in his palm, he estimated its value with its marketable weight. Satisfied with it, the farmer began to look closer at his new treasure. At the end of the chain hung a locket-pendant embellished with tiny engravings and swirls. His eyes suddenly bulged from their sockets as his greed steadily rose. He fingered the ornamentation, admiring the craftsmanship and the potential value of such a find. And then—he found its hinged clasp.

"I wonder…" he spoke softly--fingertips dancing over the clasp as his thumbs began to part the two pieces of formed metal when—

"Hey!" Both girls came bounding through the trees towards the water. "We got what you wanted sir!"

The old farmer became nervous and stopped all movements. Suppose the girls saw the locket and told of its whereabouts…or perhaps they would claim ownership or blame him for stealing. Suddenly his guilty conscious stepped in. Should he turn it in? Do the right thing?

No.

He shook his head. He couldn't stomach such a loss.

The farmer swiftly pocketed his find and turned to meet the girls with a smile. They were buzzing with excitement as they handed over the cloth.

"We were telling everyone about the pretty girl we found by the water!"

"The whole village must be talking about it!"

The old farmer looked at them as he began wrapping the girl in the cloth.

"Oh really? Well, that's nice I suppose."

He drew a breath of relief. Good he thought. I got away with it--They didn't see it…

Carefully, he picked up the lifeless body and carried it to his market-wagon.

He hitched up the horse as the girls looked on, all giggles and smiles.

"Well girls, I'm off to take care of business. Tell my wife I'll be home for supper. Buh-bye!"

He climbed in and flicked his horse to movement. Thus, the old farmer made his journey into town with the stolen locket's secrets still unopened.


	3. The king is met with intrigue

_A.P. Yes, I know it's been FOREVER!! But, I got another review for it so I decided to continue. Keep em' coming! Otherwise, I wont know if anyone is still reading my stories._

The farmer approached the castle with a certain satisfied look upon his face. He knew this body—this woman, whoever she was might be his ticket out of debt, if he could prove she was important…somehow.

He parked his wagon near the castle's bridge as he stroked the locket. He smiled and chuckled to himself as he pocketed his find.

"Aye, you there! Stop!" One of the two guards watching outside the castle entrance took notice of the farmer's eager face. Almost too eager.

"Forgive me for the intrusion" said the farmer, a bit startled by their reaction to him. "You see, I've brought something the king might be interested in."

"Your taxes?" laughed the other guard as he elbowed the first. A chuckle was shared by the pair.

A nervous grin spread across the farmer's toothless mouth as he avoided eye contact. It wasn't exactly a secret that he was more than behind on his taxes. He knew he had to change the subject, and quickly.

"No—no, I've picked up a strange looking woman on my land," the farmer stated matter-of-factly.

The guards looked un-amused. A moment passed with silence hanging in the air. The second guard's eyebrow shot up as he eyed the farmer for, perhaps, more information to his story. After more silence, he began to yawn.

The farmer knew he was losing his audience, so he desperately racked his sluggish brain for something—anything! Quickly, he spawned up a tale.

"Well, this girl I found…uhh….she may be a spy!"

The vacant stares of the guards jumped to.

"A Spy!?" said one.

"Where is the cowadly wench!?" bellowed the other.

Such a display of emotion was exactly what the farmer had hoped for, and with that he swiftly led them to his cart.

"There, in the blanket. That's her."

The two guards peered over the side for a better look. One even began reaching in. His caution and curious face were of a child-like fashion.

"No!" cried the farmer.

The two guards jumped back and held their hearts.

"What the bleedin' hell was that for?" said one, fighting for his breath.

"Well, she's umm…"

"She's what? Dead??"

"No no…" the farmer was hesitant. "…She's naked."

The two guards shared a look of juvenile curiosity as they glanced back over in the cart.

"Shall we proceed to the king then?" coughed the farmer, breaking the guards of their fixation. "The sun has begun to set, after all."

"Yeah….yeah…." said one guard turning toward the farmer. "Follow me."

"And you," He barked to the other guard, "Carry this spy to the king."

As the farmer could remember, the walk to the throne was always a lonely one. He, of course, had been here several times before, begging for an extension for his taxes. They were always such somber occasions, but today…today he hoped would bring him riches, and this girl was the key.

Up the grand double staircase was the great hall that housed the throne. In his opinion it always seemed over-done. Upon entry, eight giant while marble stone pillars framed the two chairs that resided at the head of the room. The white marble was matched with tiles of black onyx embellishments inlaid throughout the floor. A chamber-like ceiling crowned the room with high arches and frescos. Aside from a couple of royal guards and the king himself, the whole room was drafty and alone.

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Before entering the room, the farmer stopped his walk in mid-stride when the setting sun caught a piece of the mighty stained-glass window that adorned the far wall over the throne. Their colors waltzed around the room illuminating the empty hall with animation. As he gazed up he saw crafted into the center of the glass stood a wizard king and his blonde beauty amidst a storm. The woman etched into its pane was seen bowing before the wizard submitting herself to his will. Her hands were pressed together in prayer as if she praising the king like a god. All around them lightning crashed and the clouds were thick and heavy.

Ironically, this window was what drew the visitor's eye upon entering, not the king. Like the age of the castle, the tale had gotten lost over time. Everyone seems to have a story for the scene, but a fairy-tale is just a fairy-tale. Fictional nonsense.

The only thing a window is good for is light, not a silly story. The farmer sighed and continued following his escort.

After what seemed like a mile's worth of walking, the farmer and the two guards stopped and bowed low before the king. The king, a man known for his serious character and logic received them, but kept a fixed eye on the blanket draped over the one guard's shoulder.

"Your highness," began the other guard that had escorted the farmer, "I have brought to you the farmer from the northern pass. In his possession is an alleged spy he caught in his territory." The guard bowed once more and stepped aside.

The king looked from the farmer to the blanketed figure, his features turning from somber to stern as the news was being delivered to him.

"Bring him, this spy, to me." His voice was low and authoritative. Such a voice commanded respect. Without a moment's hesitation the lump on the guard's shoulder was placed in front him. The farmer hesitantly spoke.

"…I found her on the ban—…"

"Her?..you mean…?"

"…Yes…yes my lord. She. I mean, I found her on the bank of the river this afternoon and…" The farmer finished as soon as he knew the king's surprise had waned.

"...I believe she is a spy."

"What evidence has brought you to this conclusion?" questioned the king.

"Well," replied the farmer, "I for one, find it suspicious that a woman without an escort is found trespassing on my land not wearing clothes and is covered in mud."

"Have you checked to see whether or not she is still alive before bringing her to me?" asked the king, beginning to sound a little annoyed with the farmer. "Or are you trying to barter a 'spy' for compensation on your back-taxes?"

"No, you majesty...I—I would never try…" The farmer was cut off abruptly.

"Remove him from my sight and dispose of this corpse." commanded the king, turning away from his audience and seating himself back down on his throne.

The farmer, seeing his chance slipping away called out,

"Wait! Your highness! She has a strange marking on her arm! Some kind of tribal tattoo or something…"

The king, whether out of boredom or amusement, called the guards off and summoned the farmer back.

The king stepped down from his throne. With a smirk and a command on his lips the king quietly commanded,

"Show me."

The farmer, seeing his chance to redeem himself, kneeled down to the woman and began unwrapping her left arm.

The king stepped back.

"It—it looks like…like a handprint almost…" his intrigue had now begun to grow and a spark could be seen rising in his eyes.

"Summon my priests," he called to the guards. "I need to know what this means."


End file.
